


hypothesis: unclear, to be discovered

by ElasticElla



Series: drabble the halls [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Coffee Shops, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-27
Updated: 2016-12-27
Packaged: 2018-09-12 12:23:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9071509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElasticElla/pseuds/ElasticElla
Summary: Some asshole has been chatting with the barista for like ten minutes, and Sam has been watching the seconds tick by on their wall clock, one by one. He's going to be late.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [heroisms (tiny_white_hats)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tiny_white_hats/gifts).



> so I'm pretty sure/have been scouring the mcu wiki that bruce and sam didn't meet until age of ultron, so the alt canon is that fury has bruce working science for shield in DC way before gathering the avengers

Sam doesn't even like Starbucks. Okay, that's not true- but he's not like in _love_ with it or anything. While he'd rather have his coffee full of cream and sugar and fun flavors, he can deal with the slightly burnt black coffee that's always at Veterans Affairs. But today was going to be a day, he already knew it, and wanted to get an overpriced fancy coffee. 

Only some _asshole_ has been chatting with the barista for like ten minutes, and Sam has been watching the seconds tick by on their wall clock, one by one. The barista keeps laughing and flirting, and Sam doesn't have time for this- his first meeting starts in only seven minutes now. 

Six and a half minutes left, and Sam snaps. 

“Excuse me, can I put my order in?” 

The barista rolls her eyes, but the customer at least shifts aside- and then has the audacity to order. 

“A medium-”

“We do tall, grande, and venti here,” she interrupts and Sam bites back an audible groan. 

“Huh, that's interesting I wonder- sorry, a grande blonde roast please.” 

The man wears an awkward smile, looks like a professor with his oversized glasses and sweater, and Sam is not in the mood to be charitable and find him cute. 

“That'll be $2.81, I hope to have you with us again!”

“I don't,” Sam mutters softly, but not softly enough when the stranger raises an eyebrow, but then the barista's finally taking his order and he only has like four minutes to get his coffee and get back to Veterans Affairs. 

He's first to the meeting, but he's still two minutes late, sipping his delicious frappuccino and cursing chatty strangers. 

.

The following morning, Sam ends up in Starbucks again. It's definitely because he really wants something sweet, not because he's vengeful and a minor altercation was the most exciting thing that happened yesterday that didn't fall under 'too depressing to think about off the job'. 

The professor's already there, chatting up yet another barista. Sam waits approximately thirty seconds before tapping his foot, and the man turns with a surprised smile. 

“Hello.” 

“Are you planning on ordering in the next century?” Sam asks, and the barista's eyebrows shoot up- and maybe, maybe that was a little harsh. But the man turns back around, asking about an upcoming wedding while ordering a cup of tea and Sam needs to start coming earlier.

It doesn't occur to him until the next morning that he could just go to the other Starbucks two streets away. 

.

The next morning, a Wednesday, has him there in his jogging clothes- a full hour earlier than the new usual. 

The professor is talking to the barista. What the fuck. 

Sam loudly hums _Seven Nation Army_ and probably gives his order above an indoor volume. A tinge of guilt comes when he's sipping the delicious caramel-mocha goodness, but then he's thinking about bigger things. 

.

Thursday he goes back to coffee post jogging and shower, and the professor isn't there. He's in and out in less than a minute, early to work, and there's none of the satisfaction he expects. Friday is professor-less as well, and he feels increasingly silly checking for him. Besides going to Starbucks daily was an expense he didn't need, it'd be better to wind it back to special occasions only. 

(Sam still goes the following Monday, but the man isn't there.)

.

He doesn't expect to ever see him again, has nearly forgotten him when Steve is introducing them. 

“Sam this is Bruce, Bruce Sam. Sam helps vets with ptsd, and Bruce um, he's a scientist with Fury.” 

Sam blinks twice, an embarrassed smile emerging, and he's really hoping _Bruce_ doesn't remember him. “Nice to meet you.” 

“Really, in this century?” Bruce asks, and Sam chokes as Steve looks between them, eyebrows raised. 

“Sorry I'm not the best before coffee,” Sam admits.

Bruce scratches the back of his neck, “I was actually doing an experiment, can I get you a coffee to make up for it?” 

“Sure, Cap you-”

“I have a, uh, a mission. But you two should go enjoy that coffee,” he says, practically sprinting away. 

Sam's eyebrows come together, and he turns to Bruce, “That was weird right?” 

Bruce shrugs, “I stopped noticing weird a while ago. There's a nice cafe around the corner if you aren't opposed to skipping the commercialized stuff.” 

“You're paying man,” Sam says, and with a bark of laughter, Bruce brings them to the D.C. Cup. It's small and quiet and cute, old newspapers lining the walls. They have two pots of coffee in a blink, the waitress pointing out the regular pot verse mocha blend. 

“So you said something about an experiment?” 

He winces, setting down his cup. “I'm the Hulk.” 

“And that requires taking extra long times to place your order? I don't follow,” Sam says, refusing to blink at his statement. His best friend was Captain America, so what if the professor looking dude turned giant and green. He couldn't have done anything _that_ bad or Steve wouldn't have left them alone together. 

“I've been working on better control,” he says, toying with the tiny spoon. “At knowing what anger gets me closest to turning, how to stop myself.” 

“Okay?”

Bruce looks up at him, “The first day we met, I was talking with Alicia about her immigration status and you interrupted us.” 

“Shit,” Sam breathes, “I didn't know, sorry man I-”

Bruce shakes his head quickly, “That's not called for or the point. It was the first time I ever got angry without feeling any of _him_ trying to emerge.” 

“Huh.” 

“It was the same the next times I saw you, and then I… well I tried an experiment out in the middle of nowhere Virginia that didn't end well. Later I recognized you as the Falcon and asked Steve for an introduction.”

Sam laughs softly, “That would explain him telling me to dress up.”

Bruce's eyebrows come together, and Sam is all too happy to add, “And why he practically ran away.” 

It comes to Bruce then, two spots of dark pink on his cheeks, and Sam shouldn't find it half as cute as he does. (He's hit with the sudden thought of if only anger makes the other guy come out, or if sexual stuff- and he stops the thought _right_ there.)

“Maybe I'm old fashioned, but I'd at least buy you dinner,” Bruce finally says, still lightly flushed. 

And Sam's always enjoyed poking at things perhaps he shouldn't, doesn't like letting things rest easy. “That an offer?”

Bruce lets out a small laugh, “You can't want that. I'm not- I'm not safe.”

“Maybe you didn't notice, but I have wings,” Sam says. “I'm not some defenseless civilian.”

“You,” Bruce sputters, “but I'm-”

“How about this, you tell me more about your research and questionable experiments and I'll eat a steak. And you already told me I don't provoke your greener side, so your argument sucks.”

“I… okay,” Bruce says, “what are you doing tonight?”

“You apparently,” Sam answers nonchalantly, and Bruce spits out his coffee. 

(It takes ten minutes for Sam to stop laughing, and they leave a very generous apology tip.)


End file.
